“On the Continent, sir.”
“Tut, tut, how tiresome!” cried Chester, impatiently. “Look here, my man; how is Mr Robert?”
“Quite well, thank you, sir,” said the man, superciliously.
Chester stared at the man. He had evidently been schooled what to say, and for the moment the visitor hesitated, but recovering his sang-froid the next moment, he said—
“Rather strange that, after so serious an accident.”
At that moment the butler came forward from the back of the hall, pulling the door a little more open, and Chester drew a deep breath full of satisfaction, as he caught sight of one of the statues and a chair, on the back of which was emblazoned the same crest as he had seen upon the seal.
“What is it, Orthur,” said the butler in a deep, mellow voice suggestive of port wine.
“Gentleman asking to see Mr Robert, sir.”
“Yes, I particularly wish to see him,” said Chester. “I am the medical man who attended him after his accident.”
“I beg pardon, sir.”